Birth of Venus

by mushybella
Beneath
 
tree canopies
 
and the
 
pink sheet of
 
sunset horizon,
 
she lulls you
 
to sleep.
 
Angel breath
 
caresses your
 
naked breasts
 
and promises
 
dreams...
 
(if not sweet,
 
certainly erotic.)
 
Her whispers are
 
frost that tickle
 
your ears and
 
profess that
 
to walk on water
 
is to love—
 
and vice versa—
 
and if you can
 
accomplish either,
 
youʼve tasted
 
divinity.

95th Weekly Poetry Contest
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